High School Prom

Around this time of year, schools will probably be on their toes preparing for the Junior Senior Prom. Girly teen magazines will be brandishing teasers like 'Look Spectacular on your Prom Night!' in gleaming bright letters, framing a Photoshop perfect photo of a tween celebrity. Just a few days ago I saw an article in the Inquirer advising high schoolers on the do's and dont's for this once-in-a-lifetime occasion (yeah right). It made me reminiscent of my own uneventful, yet cringe inducing prom nights.

My mother and I bought a shimmery blue-violet spaghetti strap dress for my Junior year. Despite its 3K price tag, it screamed more of a good ukay find, than a pricey designer dress. The neighborhood parlor gay succeeded in making my make up as cakey as possible, which is proven by the thumb print left on my forehead after he made last minute touch ups. My hair was put in a odd looking bun which resembled a siopao skewed on top of my head. All in all I resembled a matrona decked for a ballroom night out.

I couldn't remember much of the party itself. Most of my memory is in hazy detail obscured by flashes of bright lights bouncing off in a huge darkened hall. Although like most of those who attended, my friends and I enjoyed ourselves with dancing, which was halted when romantic melodies brought lovers to the dance floor.

My spirits remained energized until after I was home in the wee hours of the morning. My thoughts perched on a mountain of grandiosity. Although I was stricken by the images of those who looked absolutely gorgeous that night--my self depreciation hitting major points at my ego. It was neither an affair to remember or a memory to mock on a ground. It made me happy for a time, but also quite ridiculous after.

My 'costume' for the Senior prom was a league beyond what I wore for the junior's night (by nerdo standards that is). I remember the ladies wearing dresses of incredibly low necklines and butt cheek peeking cuts, which obviously didn't make the night easy for then. All of the guys were wearing crisp suits, most of them in dark hues, with a two or so wearing white. Identical dresses created created a major issue, with friends convincing the supposed 'original wearer' that she wore it better. It's a laugh fest really. During the dance, I recall my high school adviser forcing my male classmates to partner up with the women, almost turning it into a cotillion. Its something you wish you could enjoy, but cannot help but be delighted upon it consummation.

My high school prom nights would probably be not on the list of those events I would wish to repeat. Aside from my belief that High School is an arena of bullish predicaments, the prom would be an embodiment of adolescent frivolity and feigned enjoyment. Although it could probably be from my low self-esteem back then (or lack thereof) that made it more of a macabre feast than a glitzy spectacle. Well another one of those repugnant memories you would wish to stifle.


What's your prom night story?



Why did my writing suddenly turned sentimental and memoir-ish? I need to learn how to write lightly.